


Love is (not) a Family Affair

by indevan



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerome begins acting aloof after he and Inigo hook up for the first time and Chrom decides that the best way to bond with his son is to respond to this.  Naturally, revelations, embarrassment, and thinly veiled threats are what follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is (not) a Family Affair

Chrom was surprised when he saw Inigo beating a frantic path to his tent, face buried in his hands.  At the sight, a pang of guilt shot through him.  He had been spending most of his time bonding with Lucina and no time at all with his son.  It was his own fault, of course.  He and Lucina had a lot more in common.  Before his marriage, he had never gone out to pick up women and his passion for dancing that he constantly tried and failed to keep hidden, well, that was more Olivia’s area of expertise.

Still, seeing his youngest sobbing and running to hide instilled a sense of fatherly responsibility.  He and Inigo might not have had a lot in common but he was still his son and he had to see what was bothering him.  Satisfied with this decision, Chrom made his way to his tent.  He knocked on the flap a bit too hard, causing it to shudder almost angrily.

“Go awaaaaay!” the voice inside cried.

“Inigo?  It’s me...uh...your father.” Chrom cursed himself.  Of course he knew who he was.

There was a long pause from inside the tent.  He could hear Inigo’s breathing--that ragged, snotty sort of breathing one made when they cried--until finally he got an answer.

“Come in.”

He ducked down and pushed aside the flap as he entered.  He found Inigo sitting on his bedroll, his knees drawn up to his chest.  His eyes were puffy and red, his cheeks flushed and wet.

“Did something happen?”

“N-no.  Nothing.”

He figured that it had to be that some girl rejected him again because that always made him cry.  Then again, Chrom had noticed that quite a lot of things made Inigo cry.  He was so different from Lucina.  Lucina who was so driven and hard-working.  Sometimes, Chrom thought it would do her good to open up a bit more like she had at the lakeside.  He didn’t want her bottling up her hurt.  Inigo seemed to have the opposite problem.  He cried at the drop of the hat.  However, despite how easily he spread his waterworks, Chrom suspected there was more he was hiding.

“Son?”

He made his way a little closer and sat next to him.

“It’s…” he sniffed. “Embarrassing…”

“You can tell me.” Chrom smiled in a way he hoped was supportive.  He only had an infant at home.  Dealing with the problems of two grown children was new to him.

“I...well, I lost, um, it.” He bit the side of his lip and looked away.  Inigo blinked his eyes where tears had begun gathering on his lashes.

“Lost what?  Equipment?  Well, Frederick will be upset but--”

“No!  Father, I lost my virginity!”

Whatever else Chrom was going to say died in his throat.  Oh, Gods.  Oh, Gods.  He was not prepared for this.  He also hadn’t been aware that Inigo, well, had never had sex.  Despite all the rejection he seemed to receive, he just assumed that at some point he had had sex.

“And what’s wrong?” He really hoped that this wasn’t another lady thief who was going to make off with their supplies.

“He’s acting like nothing happened!” Inigo broke into a fresh wave of tears.

“H-he?” Chrom widened his eyes.  Definitely not prepared for this.

“He’s ignoring me and pretending like we didn’t...like he didn’t...I gave him everything, father!” he collapsed forward, burying his face in Chrom’s chest.

Awkwardly, he stroked down the back of his hair, unsure of what else to do.  Despite this, though, he felt a surge of anger for whoever had hurt his boy.

“Who was it?”

Inigo looked up, blinking through even more tears.  He glanced down, away as if he were ashamed.

“Gerome…”

Gently, Chrom eased Inigo up off of him and rose to his feet as best he could in the tent.

“Well...I think I’m going to have a chat with him.”

“F-father?  No!  Don’t!”

Inigo scrambled after him but, thankfully, didn’t follow Chrom out of the tent.  He had no idea what he was going to say to Gerome but no one treated his son like that.

“Huh,” he said to himself, “I think I’m getting this fathering thing down, finally.”

\--

Gerome ran his hand over Minerva’s scales appreciatively.  The new wyvern shampoo was working amazingly, if he said so himself.  He exhaled a breath and leaned against her flank.  Minerva snaked her head around and fixed him with a judgmental stare.

“I know,” he said with another sigh.

He had been concentrating on her care since the other night.  What happened between he and Inigo had been...fire.  He wasn’t used to fire.  Not used to the sort of ardency that bloomed in his groin and made his face get hot.  He hadn’t expected to respond to Inigo like that.  With urgency, with passion.  Gerome had known he had been interested in men for as long as he could remember but being interested in men and being interested in Inigo were two entirely different things.  And now what?  He was ignoring him, probably making him feel terrible, all because he couldn’t sort out his feelings for him.  He had to at least admit that he fancied Inigo.  If he didn’t fancy him, he wouldn’t have ended up bare arse naked with him in his tent.  Still, he hadn’t come from the future to get in any entanglements with the others.  They had a mission, a goal.  He was losing sight of it and succumbing to that passion with Inigo was a clear sign of just that.

“Hello, Gerome.”

He felt his spine fuse.  The voice was genial, almost polite.  He looked over and peered through his mask to see Chrom.  Chrom the leader of the army.  Chrom the Exalt.  And, most importantly, Chrom Inigo’s father.

“Hello, Milord,” he said back.

Chrom came towards him, hand trailing on Minerva’s flank.  His eyes, though, never left Gerome.

“So...you and my son have gotten...close.”

Gerome gulped.  He _knew_.  He stroked a hand nervously down Minerva’s side.  He wished he had her to back him up but she was judging him for his treatment of Inigo post-coitally as well.  It didn’t help that she was probably his biggest fan.

“You could...say that.”

Chrom fixed him with a stare that made him shrink up against Minerva like a child.  He wasn’t aware that he could have such a potent stare.  This Inigo wasn’t even truly his Inigo but it didn’t matter.  What Chrom saw was that his child was hurt and that Gerome had been the one to hurt him.

“Inigo is upset…”

“You think?” Chrom blurted. “You--uh…”

He faltered, cheeks pinkening, and Gerome realized that he was in luck.  Despite being married and having a child of his own, Chrom was nervous about talking about sex.  Maybe he could get around being verbally destroyed by the leader of their army for deflowering his son and then not speaking to him.

“I...yes.” Gerome found himself feeling similarly embarrassed.  Thinking about what happened in his own head was different from mentioning it out loud.

“He’s sobbing in his tent.” Chrom frowned and added, “I don’t think that’s something he’d want me to have said.”

Gerome decided it was best not to point out that Inigo spent many hours at a time sobbing.  Mostly because he felt bad since it was he this time who had caused the sobbing.

“I didn’t...mean to hurt him.” Gerome looked away.  He was bad with words on a good day.  Now, with this awkward conversation, he was even worse.

“You did.  Inigo felt like he gave you something special and you’re treating him like this.” Chrom’s initial embarrassment seemed to wane and be replaced by fatherly ire.  Lucky Gerome.

“So did I,” he mumbled.

That night, he had been so surprised that Inigo had admitted to never having had sex.  He thought, maybe, one time someone had said yes to his flirtations.  When they began the tryst, Gerome had been hoping that Inigo would have some kind of experience to make up for his own lack of any but in the end it had just been them fumbling and shaking in the dark.  It had been...nice.  Gerome had felt nice afterwards, before the strangeness set in, before he had to realize that he fancied Inigo.

“You will talk to him.  You will make up for the hurt you’ve caused.” He fixed him with that same stare he had earlier and Gerome felt himself shrink back up further against Minerva. “And you will never make my son cry again.  Do you understand?”

He nodded, properly frightened.  Chrom immediately righted himself and smiled his usual easy, casual grin.

“Good.  I hope to see you as the mess tent tonight, Gerome.”

He turned and strode off, the edges of his cape hitting Gerome in the face.  He swallowed thickly and cast a nervous look to Minerva.

“That was...unexpected.”

She stared at him, her look eerily mimicking Chrom’s.

“Fine, yes, I know.  I’ll speak with him.”

She let out a low roar of approval.

\--

Inigo emerged reluctantly for dinner in the mess tent.  Lucina had convinced him to come out, dragging him by the hand and saying he couldn’t have another meal in his tent, alone.  She had told him that keeping food in an unsanctioned area was how the camp would get ants and, did he want ants?  Well, Inigo didn’t want ants so he trudged behind her towards the mess tent.  At least, he thought, he didn’t look like he had spent the day crying.  His face wasn’t puffy anymore and his eyes weren’t as bloodshot.

He wasn’t the least bit hungry but he figured that he ought to go through the motions of getting food.  He stood behind Gregor in the line for stew, concentrating more on holding the wooden bowl in his hands than anything else.  It was easier to stare at the swirls of wood grain than to think about anything else, especially since all thoughts led to him.  Gerome.  The way he had held him in his tent, awkwardly at first but then more comfortably as the night wore on.  How he took his mask off for him and the way his eyelids fluttered when he came.  The sense of power Inigo got when he realized it was _him_ getting Gerome off.  Him getting him to make those noises.  And then...nothing.  What did he expect, though?  For them to be lovers.  He hadn’t even thought he liked Gerome until they were kissing.  But now that he was avoiding him, now that it was over, he felt this aching emptiness inside of him.

A throaty chuckle drew him from his reverie and Inigo looked up to see that it was Gregor laughing at him.

“What?” he asked, feeling a blush start to prickle at the back of his neck.

“Gregor heard what you and Gregor’s boy were getting up to other night.” He grinned. “Sounded like he loved you good, yes?”

Inigo yelped and dropped his empty bowl.  Others _heard_?  Gerome’s father _heard_?  He needed to get out of there.  Away from the mess tent.  Away from everyone else.  He was going to hide in his tent until Grima was taken down and even then he would never come out.

Outside the mess tent he collided with a firm body and fell backwards.  Before his backside collided with the ground, he felt hands grip his arms.  Inigo paused when he saw the gloves on the hands and the black sleeves they were attached to.  Slowly, he looked up and saw him staring eye to mask with Gerome.  He shuddered involuntarily.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For how I’ve acted.  I...there’s a lot on my mind.  You, mostly.”

Inigo swallowed thickly.

“Same here.  I don’t know what to think or what to do but I know that I liked it.  Being with you.  I’m…” He trailed off and looked away, face on fire.

“Yes.  I don’t know much about how I feel.  About you.  About all of this.  But I didn’t want to hurt you even though I did.”

He didn’t know what to say.  It was rare to hear so many words from Gerome at once, and spoken so honestly.  He just kept quiet.

“If we were...to ever do that again, I promise not to hurt you.  Not to make you cry.” He set his mouth and added, “and please don’t send your father on me again.”

Inigo gaped for a moment at the fact that his father did indeed hunt Gerome down to giving him a talking to but then let his voice get indignant.

“Yeah, well _your_ father _heard_ us!”

Gerome’s face twisted into a look of mortification and he couldn’t help but laugh.  When it died down, he realized that he was still being held by Gerome and that, really, nothing had been settled.  He felt a little bit better, though, and maybe like things were looking up between them.

“You are a distraction,” he said, “but...a welcome one.  I...do not know how to proceed.”

Inigo swallowed and leaned in, tilting his face up towards him.

“You could kiss me.”

His cheeks flushed at his own audacity and before he could come up with a mumbled excuse, Gerome’s lips were on his.  His hands slipped down from Inigo’s arms, freeing them.  Inigo took this opportunity to wrap them around his waist and pull himself tightly against him.  They parted, both almost breathless.

“And now?” Gerome asked.

“You kiss me again."

 


End file.
